These Things That Haunt Us
by TheVirginSH
Summary: Dark!Sherlock. He had to let him go. He had to say goodbye to his Soldier, his blogger, his doctor, his friend, and his heart.He was the one that didn't deserve John. He was the monster. Now he is looking for his maker.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the (Sherlock) characters._

**Prologue**

Sherlock paced the flat running his boney fingers through his ebony locks. He had deduced that this was the night. The night everything ends. The night he loses control. The night that John finally rips his heart out, shattering it to pieces. Tonight was the night that John tells him about the affair.

John arrived home at eight, his eyes blood shot and lids drooping heavily. He needed sleep, but he wasn't planning on sleeping here. He knew that. Sebastian had planned to pick him up in exactly a hour. Just enough time of him to end it with Sherlock and pack up his things. He entered the flat to find Sherlock sitting in front of the fire place, his feature's dark and tiresome.

"Argh...John! Your home." He tried to hide his anxiety and pain.

"Sherlock...We um..We need to talk" John tried to start, but even he could see that Sherlock was already falling apart. He knew. Of course, Sherlock bloody knew. He always knew. He was Sherlock Holmes. He drew a deep breath feeling unsteady. His hands shaking vigorously.

"Sherlock, I don't think we can continue with this - This thing we have between us." He looked down calming himself before speaking again in a more hushed tone.

"I think it's time we - we end it. We both know it was doomed to end badly from the beginning. I am just stopping it before we both end up in ruin. You deserve better. You are better. I don't deserve you -" He cut himself off.

"I think it would be best" He paused.

"If - If we...I just pack my thing's and go...Don't you?" Oh, god. He thought. He sounded heartless. How could he do this to Sherlock? Sherlock who had given everything to him. Sherlock who cared for him even though it wasn't in his nature. Sherlock who was alway's loyal and Sherlock who was still madly in love with him.

Sherlock remained still. He couldn't look at John. He couldn't even speak. Closing his eye's and bitting his lip as small pleas threatened to escape his mouth. He couldn't hold him back even if John was his safety net. He had to let him go. He had to say goodbye to his Soldier, his blogger, his doctor, his friend, and his heart. He was the one that didn't deserve John. He was the monster.


	2. Because you will always be my hero

Sherlock's eyes searched the room as he woke up from a dream like slumber. His hands reached out to find nothing, but air. His vision was still hazy as he felt something latched onto his wrist. He panicked at first till he realised that it was John_. His John, his doctor, his soldier._ He hummed with delight even though he was still plagued by the pounding corruption in his mind. John reached down to stroke Sherlock's cheek as tears, fell from his own arctic blue eyes. He knew what was coming, he knew what Sherlock would ask of him, but he was far to indecisive, to know whether he could actually do it. _Could he really kill Sherlock Holmes? Could he really harm his best friend?The person that he had sworn to protect with his life._

Sherlock looked up into John's dark arctic eyes and shivered, he knew,_ John always knew. _Still trying to stay strong for him, John took several shallow breaths.

"You're going to be alright, Sherlock. I promise. Just stay with me" John begged, the last of his hope fading fast as he saw small flickers of insanity come to life in Sherlock's eyes. He needed his best friend, he needed Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock whimpered, taking a few ragged breaths before reaching up with trembling hands to wipe away John's tears.

"Hey" He tried to obtain John's complete attention as his thumb caught the silver coated tears running down his friend cheek. "No, crying. Your going to make me cry if you keep this up" He tried to remain jovial as a sharp jolt of pain ran through his body, effecting every nerve, a warning. Jim Moriarty was coming back.

John held Sherlock as he saw the brunettes features contort with pain. He shook his head knowing that Sherlock was losing the battle, he refused to let the ex-detective go. "Sherlock, stay with me" He pleaded in a helpless voice. "Your stronger then him and you know it. Please" He took several deep breaths, trying to stop himself for hyperventilating.

"He's coming, John, please." He cried out in a moment of weakness. "I can't fight him, not now, not anymore. He has been in control for to long, he's to strong. Please, you have to end it, it's time to let me go" He could no longer hold back his own tears.

John bit his quivering lip to hold back a strong on coming whimper, as friend practically begged for him to take his life. He couldn't do it. He had lost so much already, that the idea of losing Sherlock as well, killed him. His heart-rate elevated as his eyes strayed to the set of guns beside them. If he was going to do this, he wanted to be by his friends side, right until the end. He couldn't let Sherlock die on his own, and he couldn't muster the courage to think of his world without Sherlock Holmes in it.

"If your going to do this Sherlock -" He paused, inhaling deep, before continuing. "You do this with me. We do this together, because dammit Sherlock. I can't live in a world without you in it. I love you Sherlock Holmes and it's because of me that we are in this mess so please let me get us out of it!" He took a shaky breath as he leaned in kissing the ex-detective's forehead softly.

"You were never the monster Sherlock. I was!" John sobbed as he cupped the other mans face in his hands.

Sherlock weeped hearing John's words. His cold heart breaking, once again.

"John" He shook his head. "You can't! God...Please just listen to yourself. You don't deserve to die here - Not with me."

John shook his head. "No Sherlock, Moriarty always said that I was his creator. That I took away your heart and turned you into him. That I was Frankenstein and he was my monster." His voice was stern as his gaze diverted back to guns. He swallowed before looking back at Sherlock with a soft smile.

Sherlock cleared his throat wiping away his fallen tears, before mustering the strength to look back up into John's hollowed out eyes.

"How do we do this?" He asked frightened of his own question.

John nods toward the guns beside them, swallowing hard as he reached forward to take them in hand. He studied the design and make, checking to see if they were loaded before nodding in a weak approval.

"It would be faster and more reliable then any drug. We both know where to shoot and both have near perfect aim. We wouldn't feel a thing" He lied. They would feel it. They would feel everything right up to the moment they felt nothing at all.

Sherlock gave a weak and sorrowful smile nodding.

"Okay" He took deep breathes as he closed his eyes holding back more tears that threatened to drain out. He trembled as he calmed himself enough to take the gun with unsteady hands. He leaned in pressing his lips against John's one last time before moving to the other side of the room. He steadied himself as he turned back to face his doctor, his John.

"Ready?" He asked hesitantly, his hand shaking as his alter ego fought against him for control.

John turned the gun over repeated times in his hand, wiping his tears away on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked up and nods.

"Ready!"

They raised their guns together.

"On the count of three." Sherlock called his voice pained as Moriatry fought to regain control of his body, he tried his best to only focus on John and the situation at hand.

**_"One"_** He took a deep breath his finger threading through the loop that surrounded the trigger.

**_"Two"_** John counted aiming directly for Sherlock's heart.

Sherlock removed his finger from the loop and called it.

**_"Three"_**


	3. When darkness consumes you

The room echoed with silent screams as Sherlock's body fell to the ground. The gun loosely falling from his hand as he moved to grasp the bleeding wound near his heart. He gasped for air as he fell to the floor convulsing in pain till he stilled. The precious lifeblood flowing profusely from the bullet wound. His vision became blurry and disoriented as his mind finally found peace in darkness.

Several seconds after hearing the shots John opened his eyes. He had felt no pain. No searing burn as the small piece of metal, tore through bone, muscle and flesh. Nothing. He hadn't been shot. Sherlock never pulled the trigger. His eyes immediately searched the room for his friend only to find a broken body.

"No, no, no, no, no" He ran over to Sherlock's body trying to stop the bleeding, although he knew that it was already to late.

"You bastard! You utter cock!" He cried unable to hold back his tears. "Why?" He pulled Sherlock onto his lap brushing away, the stray ebony locks that covered his eyes. "Why? We were meant to go together, my love." He kissed Sherlock's cold lips, before reaching for the gun.

"I promised you that I would finish this Sherlock and I am going too." He placed the barrel of the gun to his temple and smiled softly.

"We shall be together again, my love. I promise" He looked into Sherlocks still open eyes, and pulled the trigger.


End file.
